“You don’t even have a connection to Tarviss,” I said, letting my opinion slip for the first time.
They didn’t think this uprising through. It was true, they could stay in the mansion for days but certainly not forever. With the merge blocked, they had no means to bring in more people, weapons, or food. Mespana could step aside and wait for them to starve.
But, I guessed, we needed a show of strength to discourage other potential dissidents. Besides, making sure the rebels wouldn’t try to expand their territory to Kooine would require a constant guard, something we couldn’t afford. So maybe quelling this rebellion as soon as possible was our best option.
“That was one of our terms,” said Peridion condescendingly.
Yes, and Tayrel Kan had fun responding to it.
“You assholes think it’s enough to draw a magic circle, make fart noises, and you can bend the universe to your will,” he’d mocked. “It’s bullshit. The laws of physics are unbreakable. You can’t merge the worlds that are not properly aligned in the first place. It’s just physically impossible. Tell it to those morons.”
“It can’t be done,” I said.
“Why not?”
“Maurir and Tarviss are not aligned,” I explained, trying not to mimic Tayrel Kan’s tone. “They can’t be merged.”
“Somehow all the worlds can be aligned if the Dahlsi want them to,” he spat, and I realized he knew as much about magic as I did. That didn’t stop him from making outrageous claims and demanding the universe to obey, like the spoiled brat he was.
“Not really,” I said, trying to sound calm. “Look, I’m not a sorcerer. People smarter than I made calculations; they’re in my pouch if you want to check.”
“I’m not interested in calculations; I’m interested in results.”
“And the results are physically impossible.”
“Well, maybe we just didn’t state our terms clear enough.”
Before I could respond, someone grabbed my hair and pulled my head back.
“I think we should remind your friends in Dahls we’re not playing games here,” said Peridion, coming closer to me, waving his knife menacingly.
“Think about it,” I rasped, trying to break the grasp, but those who held me—at least two—were stronger. “This is your last chance to back off. If you kill me, there will be no more talk; Dahlsi will kill you all!”
“It would do you better to stick to farming,” he said, ignoring my words. “You wanted to play with real men? Now you’re gonna pay for it.”
“You know, I think I figured out why you cling so much to old customs,” I spat, desperately trying to break the grip of the thugs holding me. “They give you a sense of privilege, no matter who you are as a person. Because stripped of them, you are nothing!”
“Well, I hope your personal qualities have earned you enough merit among those imps to grant you a decent funeral once we’re done with you.”
Someone’s hand grabbed my face and forced my eye wide open. Peridion was standing right next to me now, his blade tracing lines over my cheek.
I was not a religious man, but at that moment, I prayed. If there was ever a god who listened to those like me, I prayed for salvation.
Lo-and-behold, just when the blade touched my lower eyelid, my vision blurred, and the grip of my fellow Tarvissi lighten. Peridion’s eyes widened comically. He threw himself at me, and I instinctively jerked back—or tried to, because something hard was pressing against my back and a new set of arms, smaller and weaker, held me down. My instincts kicked in, and I struggled to break free, barely noticing what was happening around me.
“For Vhalfr’s sake, Aldait Han, calm down!”
The voice was familiar, but my addled mind couldn’t place it. Something soft and warm fell on my face and I sensed a sweet, nauseating scent. Kalikka. I held my breath, but it was too late: the drug had dispersed into my system, and my panic faded into a strange numbness.
When I stopped moving, the person holding me removed the mask. My vision was filled by a bright disk with four angry red lines, and it took me a while to recognize it as a face.
“What have you done?” I rasped. I wasn’t sure what had happened, only that something was not as it should be.
Tayrel Kan clicked his tongue in disapproval.
“You really don’t appreciate your leaders. You thought we were just going to send you to death?”
That was the plan. So I’d been told.
“What have you done?” I repeated, feeling the drug leaving my system as fast as it had overcome it. I tried to get up, but Tayrel Kan’s hand held me down.
“Calm down, I said, or I’ll dope you again. It was a simple projection.” My face must have been making my confusion, clear, because he started explaining: “We transferred your mind and soul into a golem, wrapped it in an illusion to make it all nice and pretty, then sent it forth. Your body was here the whole time, completely safe.”
“When… did you do that?”
As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew. The moment I lost consciousness under Amma La’s brush.
“Seriously, you should be more aware of what’s happening to your body,” murmured Tayrel Kan.
I glared at him, but his face split into a wide grin.
How the fuck could I have known? It’s not like I understood the sigils they were drawing on my back. And no one had bothered to tell me.
“Look, it was the lady’s idea.” The mage spread his arms as if trying to say he had nothing to do with it. The warning hiss came from the other side of the cot, and when I turned, I saw Laik Var glaring at Tayrel Kan with murder in his eyes. Not that it left an impression: the sorcerer’s amusement didn’t slip for a moment.
“Apparently, we needed you to act naturally. They had to believe it was really you, or the whole
